


In the Spotlight

by RembrandtsWife



Category: Leverage
Genre: Butt Plugs, Canon Het Relationship, Consensual Kink, Exhibitionism, F/M, Public Sex, Sex Club, Sex Toys, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, middle-aged kinksters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 04:48:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6315550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RembrandtsWife/pseuds/RembrandtsWife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is just another role for Sophie Devereaux. In this role, she's naked and gets to orgasm onstage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Spotlight

**Author's Note:**

> Basically my view of Nate and Sophie's retirement is that they travel around seeing beautiful things, having delicious wine and food, and enjoying kinky sex. Did I say that already?
> 
> A companion piece to ["On the Table"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5964921). A few other kinks make a brief appearance in this story, performed by people other than Nate and Sophie, namely, bondage, fisting, and puppy play. Just FYI.
> 
> Thanks to [Dizzy Redhead](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyRedhead) for beta!

"No one knows who you are tonight." Nate said from just behind her left ear. "Nobody knows Laura Ford, or Sophie Devereaux, or any other name that goes with your face. No one knows your face." He gathered her hair back from her face with both hands, fingertips barely brushing the mask that covered most of her features. "All they know, all they can see, is this."

His hands cupped her breasts from behind, his fingers framing her nipples. Swallowing a whimper, Sophie opened her eyes and looked into the mirror. 

Her breasts were naked in his hands, except for a faint dusting of glitter. Her body was naked, or very nearly. Her feet were arched in heels just a bit higher than she was used to wearing, a bit precarious. And her legs were sheathed in black silk stockings secured by a simple black silk garter belt.

The necklace Nate fastened around her throat was gold and garnets with seed pearls; an object worthy of being stolen, but in fact, commissioned and paid for by her husband. It lay over her collarbones, curiously warm on her skin; he must have been keeping it inside his jacket, or in a trouser pocket. Under the gold mask with its dark red accents, her eyes were painted gold, her exposed mouth the red of the garnets. Her breasts with their stiff brown nipples, her trim belly, and her pubis were entirely naked, exposed to all viewers--or they would be once the two of them reached the club.

Nate dropped a light kiss on the nape of her neck, giving her a delicious shiver, then helped her into the heavy black cloak, velvet lined with satin, that would keep her decent and warm from their room to the back seat of the limo, from the limo into the club. She allowed him to draw up the hood and arrange it carefully over her hair.

"Ready?" His smile dazzled her. All she could was bite her lip and manage a nod.

Nate was wearing a new suit, charcoal gray pinstriped silk with a very pale mauve shirt; the suit was bespoke, of course, and so were his shoes, Italian made, brand new but so perfectly crafted that they needed no breaking in. A fresh haircut made him look younger, more dangerous, although she would miss his curls until they grew back. She let herself drop half a pace behind him as they went down in the elevator and passed through the hotel lobby and sank into the moment as into a character; she was his submissive. His toy. A highly expensive pet, useless, decorative, with no other purpose than to give and receive pleasure.

The limo was waiting, its engine purring like a jaguar. If the walk to the curb was unexpectedly cold (her nipples hardened to the point of aching; liquid slid between her thighs), the limo was more than warm enough to make up for it. She kept the hood up and the cloak fastened despite the opaque panel between their seats and the driver, but Nate's hand found its way inside the velvet folds to rest on her thigh. Just the pressure of his hand, partly on the stocking, partly on her bare skin close to her sex, made her tremble and grow wetter. Nothing had happened yet! But her feelings were already out of control.

From the limo to the dark discreet door of the club, which opened right away. Inside the club it was warmer yet, so warm that it was no shock when Nate lowered the hood of the cloak and undid the buttons, one by one. He was watching her face with one of those crooked little grins, his eyes sparkling with heat. The young woman at the coat check was as impassive as Parker as Nate handed over the cloak. No doubt she saw nudity in the foyer all the time.

As they entered the club proper, Nate's hand settled on Sophie's lower back, where the waistband of the garter belt girded her. He leaned in and murmured, "Annie Kroy". Her safeword: If she saw someone who might recognize her, if she was no longer enjoying their game, if anything at all went wrong, naming that particular alias would alert Nate so that he could pull them out.

She nodded and let him guide her to a banquette against the side wall. The seat under her bare thighs and bum was velvet, not leather, at once soothing and stimulating. "Wine?" Nate asked when a waiter appeared. "Yes," she replied. He ordered something French without looking at the list. They had agreed that he would drink only wine and she could have one glass with him, no more. Games like this required a baseline of sobriety, for they provided their own sort of intoxication.

Piano and bass wove a subtle jazz tapestry in the background; conversation was quiet, the voices and the instruments masking one another. Peering around from behind her mask, Sophie saw banquettes along the walls, tables for two or three scattered around the room, the candle on each table highlighting and distorting faces with its dancing glow, and a stage curtained in velvet at one end of the room, opposite the bar at the other. 

She didn't notice when the music stopped, only when a spotlight came up on the stage. Nate pulled out a purple velvet domino from an inner pocket and tied it on; the purple hue and the candlelight deepened his eyes to sapphire, to indigo. The curtains on the stage drew back, and a tall, dark-skinned woman walked into the spotlight. The silver sequins of her gown were so dazzling that it took Sophie a moment to realize she was a drag performer.

The performer sang three songs in a rich contralto worthy of the great Shirley Bassey: "The Man I Love," "Love for Sale," and "Fever." By the time she finished the last song, Sophie's whole body was thrumming in time with the plucked notes of the bass. The singer bowed and threw kisses as the audience applauded politely, then announced, "Ladies, gentlemen, all or none of the above, the stage is open." She gestured with one arm and exited the stage.

"Not yet," Nate said when Sophie shifted in her seat. He put a firm hand on her thigh. "I'll tell you when."

A couple left their table and mounted the stage. She was a young woman with heavy-lidded eyes and thick fair hair that was shaved close on one side and hung below her shoulder on the other. He was slightly older, with a good deal of body hair, a soft furry belly, and a dog collar. And fur mitts, fur slippers, and a tail to go with the collar. They took the idea of puppy play rather literally; the young woman put her partner through a series of tricks worthy of a very young dog, from shaking hands and rolling over to sitting up, walking on his hind legs, and playing dead. She rewarded his performance with treats, petting, and enthusiastic words of praise: "Good boy! Good dog!"

The "puppy" was visibly aroused, but nothing specifically sexual took place on stage. The couple went off into the wings, not back to their seats, and the spotlight was taken by a trio of young women whose performance was immediately, blatantly sexual. Two of them tied up the third (who came onstage in partial shibari) and set about making her come, quickly, repeatedly, and loudly. They had a wireless Hitachi vibrator, a couple of dildos, and a rather large container of lubricant, which they needed for the piece de resistance, fisting their ecstatic submissive. Sophie was stimulated in spite of thinking that she didn't really need to see another woman's interior, ever again; in fact, she feared she was going to be glued to the banquette. Funny how porn always worked on the gonads, no matter how the mind disdained it.

The two women carried the third offstage, limp and starry-eyed and still bound. Nate brushed a hand over Sophie's thigh. "We're up."

I'm an actress, Sophie reminded herself as she mounted the steps to the stage. And this is an act. A performance, no less than Lady Macbeth or Annie Kroy or the Duchess.

Inside the spotlight, she no longer thought about the audience; there was no audience, only spots of golden flame outside the blue-white bubble of the spot. It was just her and Nate, who stood behind her just as they had stood before the hotel mirror. His hands came to rest lightly on her upper arms.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever known," he murmured. His hands slid down her arms, trailing goosebumps after them. "The smartest, the most intelligent." His hands found hers and lifted them over her head, lifting her breasts, too, and her spine. He let go and she kept her arms piled atop her hair, knowing that was what Nate wanted. "And the sexiest. Oh yes, definitely the sexiest."

His lips brushed her ear as his hands drifted down her arms to span her waist. "I'm the luckiest bastard I know, having you in my life." His hands shifted to caress her stomach, which quivered under their touch. "I don't deserve you." His fingers glided upward, teasing the fine skin over her ribs. "But I'm sure not letting you go."

His hands, so big and warm, curved around her breasts and held them, caressing them, displaying them. "I want everyone in this room to see how lucky I am, how gorgeous you are." His lips touching her shoulder were as hot as a brand. "To see how you come for me."

His fingers closed on her nipples, squeezing them just hard enough to feel good. A little cry escaped her lips and she reminded herself that it was all right for her to make noise; it was part of the game. Nate's fingers played over her breasts like a virtuoso's on a violin; she couldn't help but make music when she was an instrument in his hands.

He liked to tease her until she was begging for more. At home he would have toyed with her breasts, sucked on them, too, until she was chanting his name and begging him to touch her clit, to lick her, to fill her up. They had agreed that there would be no names, no talking here tonight; his words were for her ears only, and her words had to be turned into cries, into twisting her hips and surreptitiously rubbing her thighs together, pushing her breasts into his grasp.

Sophie whimpered brokenly when Nate let go of her and stepped back. But he took her hands and lowered her arms to her sides, kissing her hands in passing, then wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back against his chest. His lips roamed her throat, visiting all the sensitive places that he knew so well; his erection pressed against her bum through the fine wool of his suit.

Her nerves were singing with pleasure from the kisses when he took her hands and placed them around her breasts. "Touch yourself. Keep touching your nipples. I'd like to suck on them, but that wouldn't be as good a show." As she brushed her thumbs over the swollen buds, Nate's hand slid down her belly. One finger just brushed the top of her cleft and paused right there.

"How wet are you already, Sophie? What am I going to find when I slip my hand between your thighs? Because I'm going to. In fact, I'm probably going to turn you around and bend you over so everyone can see how slick you are."

Her nails dug into her breasts for a second as his finger caressed her clit. How was she going to keep steady on her legs? His fingers slid further, parting her lips and just getting her clit between thumb and forefinger.

"Oh, you're wet all right. So wet for me, Sophie. That's good, because I'm going to put my fingers inside you." She bit back a whimper as his hand moved away. "But not just yet."

Nate brought his fingers to her lips, redolent of her arousal. She licked and sucked her own wetness from them and made them wetter still, silently begging him to get on with caressing her. He smiled against her neck as he felt her wriggle against him, brushed his fingers over her nipples, and then delved into her cunt, his fingers slipping deep inside her. Gasping, Sophie shuddered in his grasp, supported by the broad hand between her thighs and the arm across her ribs. She'd be on her knees if it weren't for Nate holding her up, and wasn't that a thought, being on her knees for him in front of an audience, sucking his cock.

His fingers dragged right back out of her, spreading her lips, bringing a flood of wetness with them, and started working her clit in earnest. He kept on kissing her neck and whispering dirty love-words in her ear, bringing her close to orgasm and then backing off. She had to bite her lips to contain her words, _you bastard, goddammit, Nate, oh, please, god, god, Nate, please, you fucking bastard_. When his fingers at last plunged into her, she screamed with the force of her release, fire in her core and the rest of her body liquid with pleasure and relief.

The next thing she knew, Nate was easing her down to bend forward over a prop she hadn't noticed, a comfortably padded bench. There were cuffs for hands and feet, but he didn't restrain her, so whatever he had planned wouldn't try her patience too much. It was bliss to turn away from the spotlight and let herself slump a bit, feel the stability of the bench supporting her weight, feel her spine stretch out. Nate petted her back, her bottom, kneaded her shoulders and coaxed her feet further apart. 

A firm pat on her bum and Nate's voice broke into her relaxation. "Are you ready for the butt plug, sweetheart?"

The butt plug. Oh god, the plug. Nate loved putting that thing in her, seeing it in her. Not a comedy prop of brightly colored rubber, but a smooth, shining, heavy piece of steel, exquisitely smooth, its round base decorated with crystals. A toy and an ornament at once. She became a toy and an ornament with the plug in her ass, a squirming plaything at the mercy of her lover.

"I'm waiting, sweetheart."

Slowly, she nodded, licked her lips. "I'm ready."

The lube was cool, as it was always cool, but Nate's fingers were hot against her skin. And the plug, when it came, was warm, almost as warm as Nate's hands; no doubt he had kept it in the pocket of his trousers all this time, as close to his skin as he could get in. She bit her lip on a whimper as the width of it stretched her, then slipped forward, the jewelled base settling between her cheeks. Nate dabbed at her with a silky handkerchief; it took her a moment to figure out that he was wiping away the excess lube so that the plug would look its best.

"There you go," he murmured, his voice trailing over her as sensuously as his fingers trailing up her back. "All green?"

Green. The color code. "Green," she managed, lifting her head into his caress. He stroked her hair and then gripped her neck, hard, for just a moment.

"Now we can play."

His lips touched the small of her back; his hand landed on her arse with a firm slap. Oh! Nothing made her squirm like a good spanking. Nate was very, very good at spanking. His hand struck the other cheek, just where the curve of her buttock met her thigh. She jittered in place, wondering if he would cuff her, wondering if she should ask for the cuffs. She gripped the legs of the bench with slippery hands.

Nate spanked her, firmly but not fast, alternating blows between her buttocks, maybe six or eight. Stroked her, caressed the tender spots he'd made, while tugging on the heavy plug, teasing, but not quite pulling it out. Spanked her again, spreading heat over her skin, distributing his hits judiciously, until she was crying out with every breath and close to helpless tears. His hand, burning hot on the small of her back, steadied her, but the other hand slipped between her trembling thighs and found her clit.

Her voice broke on the orgasm he wrung out of her. Bastard! He'd be making her tea for a week in recompense. One finger pressed into her and worked the sweet spot while the other jiggled the damned plug, and her throat seized, her vision went white, her whole body was white flame.

The next thing Sophie knew, they were in the darkness of the wings, and Nate was setting her on her feet. He'd swept her up and carried her off like a virgin bride, the show-off. She looked up into his face and saw the sweat on his forehead, dragging at his curls; the glazed look in his eyes behind the mask. "Come here, you," she rasped--he really did owe her a week's worth of lemon tea. 

He stumbled after her to a chair and sprawled on it like a rag doll when she pushed him. "Sophie, wha--" Her hands were limp and shaking, but his cock seemed to leap out of his pants of its own accord. She hoped the damn chair would hold them and there, there he was, his sweet thick cock spearing up into her, filling her need, while his hands closed on her arse and pressed against the damned plug.

Nate came with a long, painful groan that sounded like almost enough payback for her cries onstage. Sophie rocked back and forth on him as he spurted inside her, clutching his face and moaning softly as her pleasure rolled on and on. 

His head had dropped to her shoulder and hers to his. "You owe me a week's worth of lemon-ginger tea. My throat is *wrecked*." Feebly she smacked at his arm.

He let out a long sigh. "I'll not only make it, I'll serve it to you on my knees and hold the cup for you, how's that?"

"Sounds fair. Now, where's my bloody cloak?"


End file.
